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short love poem

j'ai vu les nuages parmi les collines
à partir du sud à la coupure du jour
dans le port de New York
ne soyez pas faux
avec le rouge de sang de lèvres et le coeur de la pierre
bonheur
substance de la lune
sommeil, frère gris de la mort
contre la flamme verte de l'aubépine-arbre
quand la nuit dérive le long des rues de la ville
dans ma main je me tiens
je meurs
avant le saint en bronze solennel
souffleur de verre de temps

 



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